Aves
by Arintos
Summary: This is a work-in-progress novel which sets in the time of the Elder Scrolls Online. It follows the stories of multiple characters from different regions of Tamriel during the Alliance War. This is my biggest and first story I am publicly sharing, so please be patient; thank you.
1. A Night to Remember

_Chapter I: A Night to Remember_

The Bullfinches begin to sing as dawn breaks. Their loud, constant, annoying chirps echo throughout the empty dinner hall riddled with plates, cups, flagons, and residue from the exciting night before. Several Nords are still sound asleep each with an empty pint in their grips. One is actually in such a peculiar position with his legs rested on the table and his back hard on the wood floor. Another has his arm situated in the supports of a chair. What an exciting past night! A must fills the air and is visible as the rays of sun pierce through the cold, stone windows. Spring time is a lovely time in northern Skyrim. The snow is light; the temperature is brisk, and the elk can be seen roaming the hold. A cool wave of air rushes through the hall and wakes the youngest son of Skyrim in the room. Bjorn. He wakes with quite the pounding headache, and as he brushes his long, blond hair away from his crystal blue eyes that look almost like the water Iliac Bay itself, he struggles to remember a single moment from the night before. The Nord struggles to even find his shirt. Did he even wear a shirt last night? No one else in the hall even showed a glimpse of waking, he noticed. He arose and struggled to stand; he couldn't even remember the occasion.

Eventually, Bjorn finally makes his way into his chambers. A strange letter lays still upon his pillow. However, the letter is accompanied by a man not much older than Bjorn. On the bed is Bjorn's blood-brother, Valof. By no means does it appear Valof will be waking any time soon, so Bjorn simply takes the letter from under him. The letter is stamped with the crest of the Andemoors.

"Hinde…" Bjorn lets out in a sigh. He proceeds to break the seal and read the letter. Thoughts rush through the Nord's head. Is she upset? Did he touch another woman last night? Did he embarrass her? Was she even at the party? Bjorn took a breath and opened the letter frightfully.

'See me. Six hours past mid-day. The alley.'

Bjorn broke into a sweat as he read the letter for it did not reveal the cause for concern. Just as he finished reading the information, Valof smacks the letter out of Bjorn's hands.

Valof grunts loudly and says with eyes still shut, "I already read it… I'd be worried if I were you."

"You didn't read it. The seal was still intact."

"Oh, little brother. How many times have we read father's letters and resealed them? You know I'm the master of it." Valof exclaimed in return.

"Mind yourself, please. Was Hinde even here last night? I cannot remember a thing, and my head is crushing. Do you remember anything?"

Valof sat up and cleared is eyes. Specks of sand fell from the corners similar to the sand of the Alik'r Desert. "No, I do not. Now can you please put a shirt on."

"Fine, yes. Hand me the tunic there. Do you even know what time it is?" Bjorn asked with interest.

Before Valof could answer, their father, Jarl Harke of Windhelm intruded into Bjorn's chambers and answered. "It is Morndas, thirteenth of First Seed, Second Era five-hundred-eighty-three, six hours in the morning." He added, "What are you two boys doing up so early? I expected you two to sleep through mid-day! Bjorn, put on a shirt."

The older son fell back into Bjorn's bed as he realized how early it was. It would seem that Valof had enjoyed the night even more than Bjorn did. His chestnut-brown hair lay sprawled out upon his brother's pillow, and his shear-blue eyes, matching Bjorn's, were covered by tired eyelids. Bjorn, now turning red, quickly hid the letter away in his trousers after realizing his father was in the room. Jarl Harke severely disapproved of his son being with an Andemoor. The last time he caught them together, he prohibited Bjorn from having mead for two whole weeks. In order to appease his father, Bjorn simply told him that they were no longer seeing each other and that they were not on good terms by any means. Whether his father believed him or not was neither here nor there, however. He seemed satisfied to not see them together nonetheless.

"Father, were any of the Andemoors at our gathering last night?" Bjorn sheepishly asked.

His father glared at him and let out a puff of air, "Why would there have been…?" He returned with a harsh tone.

"Simply curious, father."

Jarl Harke scoffed and left the room. But he soon turned back, peeked his head through the doorway and said, "Hinde was here last night. She left after that alcoholic Dunmer poured his pint on her. Now get some rest and start your daily training in due time."

Bjorn did not reply to his father. He was trying with all his might to remember a single incident from the night before. A Dunmer? How did one even get in? Many of the Nords in Windhelm had strong bigotry towards the Dunmer. The only reason they were allowed in the city walls was because of the leniency of Bjorn's father as well as the ongoing alliance known as the Ebonheart Pact. Bjorn nor Valof had any issues with the Dunmer though. Valof was even previously involved with an intimate relationship with a Dunmer woman – up until she was arrested and discovered to be an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, of course. A shame really. They were a decent match indeed.

The young Nord awoke Valof and interrogated him more. Bjorn was determined to find out why Hinde left the letter for him, and he was most eager to see her later in the afternoon.

"Valof, come on. You don't remember a single thing? Why was a Dunmer here? Why did I see Volll with a terrible black-eye in the dining hall? Surely, you remember something!"

"Bjorn, let me sleep. My head hurts just as much as yours. I do not remember anything. I don't even remember Hinde being there. Maybe father is just toying with you." Valof answered.

Bjorn, frustrated, replied, "Fine, but go to your own bed, dammit. I'm tired and would like to sleep now. Now, Valof."

Valof, disgruntled, threw the pillow at Bjorn in amusement, subsequently got up, and went to his own chambers. The young Nord lied down in his own bed finally, but he couldn't sleep. He had too much on his mind, another twelve hours before he could find out why Hinde left the letter. So nerve-wracking. Bjorn clutched his hair in frustration and tried to sleep. Nothing. How unfortunate.

Fresh snow piled upon the windowsill of Bjorn's room. The rays of mid-day sun peered through the glass directly into the young Nord's eyes. He had lied still, staring at his wood and stone ceiling, thinking. A servant knocked on Bjorn's door suddenly, most likely sent by the Jarl.

"Yes? What is it?" Bjorn answered the knocking.

The servant explained, "Sir, your father wishes to speak with you. It is of utmost urgency he says. He has summoned Valof as well."

"Very well." And with that, Bjorn made his way off of his bed, across the hall, and into the main hall. The entire court was assembled. The Jarl's advisors, thane, sons, housecarl, and servants were all around in every seat. Bjorn, still in his mead-covered, torn clothes from the previous night, felt slightly unprepared and slightly out of place. Nonetheless, he sat by his father's side on the opposite side from Valof.

Bjorn leaned to his father and whispered at the lowest tone, "Father, why are we all here? Why are Valof and I here namely?"

His father swayed his hand towards Bjorn to silence him. The court room was large and warm. A grand fire-pit was positioned in the center on the hall, large enough to warm the entire room. All of the people sitting were waiting with eagerness. Why had they been called? The last time a meeting such as this took place was when the new thane had been chosen. In other words, it must be an important matter to attend to.

"Men and women of my court," the Jarl started, "I have called you all here today… to inform you… of a makeshift agreement… between the mighty, strong, noble Ebonheart Pact… and the Daggerfall Covenant. Yes, we have been at war. Yes, we are still vying for the Imperial Tower and the mantle of the Empire. Yes, they are our enemy. However… the Nords of Skyrim… the Dunmer of Morrowind… and the Argonians of Black Marsh… shall join forces with the races of the Covenant in Cyrodiil… to drive out the damned elves that so fiercely hold the bulk of Imperial lands. I am sending my two sons… Valof… and Bjorn… to seal this grand alliance… and to begin the extermination of Mer from our Tamriel! They set off to the city of Daggerfall today… in six hours from now, mid-day. May the Divines shine their faces upon my sons, but more importantly, may they shine upon the Ebonheart Pact and all for which we stand for!"

The crowd was silent. No one necessarily disagreed. Everyone despised the Aldmeri Dominion. But to join forces with an enemy that which has spilt so much Nordic blood? Bjorn and Valof were eager to set out. They thanked their father graciously and returned to their chambers to pack. Daggerfall – such a beautiful city. With castles all around and knights in shining armor roaming the grounds, it truly is a marvelous place. Bjorn was excited, even more than Valof perhaps. The older Nord would be able to see an old friend of his – a Breton. This Breton went by the name Daric, and has known Valof from a very young age. Daric was born in Skyrim, after all; his parents were on a diplomatic mission in the Rift. They loved it so much, they decided to stay in Riften itself. Daric and his family would always travel north to Windhelm for a winter retreat. It was here where he would meet Valof and Bjorn. All three children were around the age of six perhaps, and now, seventeen years have passed since they last met. But, when the war broke out, Daric stayed true to his heritage and traveled to his racial home – High Rock. Valof has not seen Daric since, and he refuses to imagine Daric's death. Valof is determined to find his friend. Daric and Bjorn never really got along. For some reason, Valof and Daric just clicked when together. In other words, Bjorn was not looking forward to seeing Daric, if he was even still alive.

The two Nords rushed to pack their extra clothes, their tents, supplies, armor, and weapons. Bjorn had his clean, new, shining steel sword, able to cut down a Mer in one swing. Valof, however, carried a large, formidable battle-axe, capable of doing who-knows-what to an elf. In due time, it was nearing time of departure. They were ready to ride all the way across Skyrim, which would not be an issue at all. The carriage could make it to Solitude and from there Daggerfall within a week. All the while, they would be in amiable territory; the weapons were certainly not being brought to be used. The hour then came, and they set off. Six hours past mid-day, the two Nords, two royal guards, and the horseman all journey west.

It was not until eleven hours past mid-day when each of the passengers were sound asleep. They had already entered the Pale and even passed Dawnstar, a frozen city indeed. Situated on the Sea of Ghosts, Dawnstar is one of the smaller cities of Skyrim, with only a mine or two and an old, unused, nearly destroyed garrison. Bjorn shot awake. His pale-blue eyes widened, and he broke into a cold sweat which would almost be able to freeze on his face.

"Hinde…" He regrettably let out in a sigh. Bjorn almost ordered the carriage to turn around. Almost. He knew he couldn't jeopardize this mission of peace. However, he would go the whole rest of trip with the constant feeling of rage, stupidity, uncertainty, and regret gnawing at him. How unfortunate. And so, the five Nords continued their journey, their destination Daggerfall, where they would forever change Tamriel, into a land where no white and gold eagle banners fly. They would purge the mainland of Aldmeri Dominion… or so they hoped.


	2. A Morning in the Moor

_Chapter II: A Morning in the Moor_

The sound of a chirping nightingale rang through the brisk, chilled air of the Hjaalmarch. Morthal, the capital of the hold, was hardly a city; it was hardly a village. Filled with mudcrabs and the spawn slaughterfish, Morthal did not have much to its name. The nightingales dived through the willows, passed the blooms of purple deathbells, and circled the Nordic camp. Light snow collected on the tents in the early hours of the morning. Bjorn was first awake – if he slept at all. In two days, the party made their way across almost all of Skyrim, and Bjorn could barely sleep at all. Sacks of ash, which looked as though it was from the Red Mountain itself, hung from his eyes. His hands had a slight shake to them, and his pale-blue eyes nearly turned red with the blood. The young Nord was petrified, ashamed, worried, depressed. What if Hinde really needed him? What if she was in danger? He was tearing himself apart, truly; it was severely affecting him. As he looked out into the early mist, which covered the moist, fresh swamp, he was lost in thought. Not just of Hinde, but his mind drifted to more political matters. Recently, Bjorn had been questioning his alliance and his motives. Why was he doing this? What did the elves do to deserve to be eradicated? Are they not at just as much fault as the Mer? Both sides killed, destroyed, and tortured the other. Why – he was interrupted by Valof throwing a pillow at the back his brother's head.

"Did you get any sleep?" Valof started. "Any?"

Bjorn answered, "What do you think? What if she really needed me?"

Valof, seeing how distraught his brother was replied, "We will be back soon. We'll go to Daggerfall, it'll only be a few more days, stay for a night, and then we will head back to Windhelm. It's as simple as that, Bjorn. She's fine." He could tell Bjorn was slipping; the last time he was like this was when mother died. She passed when Bjorn was eleven, Valof fifteen, of Ataxia. Bjorn was especially close with mother; they did everything together. In the spring, when Bjorn was very little, they would plant snowberries along the walls of the palace. At eleven years of age, Bjorn ran away. He found himself in a nearby cave for two whole days; his father found him finally after that time. No one knows what happened in that cave. Maybe he just say and sobbed. Whatever did happen, Bjorn has never spoke to anyone about it despite countless efforts to help him. Bjorn recovered quickly though. Never did he show signs of sadness around others, and never did he cry again.

Valof reassured his little brother, "Try not to worry about her, alright? You need sleep. Jon and I are going into the town to restock. I'll find you some of your favorite salted roast, yes? Take a nap, we'll take our time." And with that, Bjorn finally rested his eyes and drifted asleep.

Jon, one of the two guards accompanying and close friend of the two sons, and Valof made their way into Morthal. Very few souls walked about; they couldn't tell if it was just too early or if simply little to no people lived here. Either way, they waited till the general store opened. At eight hours before mid-day, Jon perused the shopkeeper's goods. The shop was lined with cheap armor, flimsy weapons, split arrows, and low-quality food. Unfortunately, it was all the party had. Once they reached Wayrest, they would have substantially better food. While he bought the necessary water, ale, mead, and food, Valof waited outside leaning on the damp wood of the shop. He watched as the villagers emerged from their homes and began to roam the town. Such a pitiful place, truly. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a small, peculiar, Argonian woman in long, black robes.

She hissed, removed her hood, and handed Valof a letter while saying, "Gaius, Gaius, take this. Tell Erus that he and his legion must leave and never come back. Please, Gaius." And with that, she took off into the fog of the marsh.

"Wait! I am not Gaius! I am Valof, son of Harke! I am not an Imperial!" Valof shouted at the fleeing lizard, but she did not turn back. The Nord examined the note. Written in slimy, fresh, black ink – maybe it was ink, was 'They know'. Once more Valof tried to inform the green, scaly Argonian he was not who she thought he was but to no avail. As he took a final examination of the note, he set it in his sack. However, when he looked up, two men approached him.

One of the hooded figures initiated to Valof, "Son of the King of Skyrim? What do you think, Tanis? Probably got some pretty coin on him, eh?"

His Bosmeri partner answered, "I'd say so. Pretty clothes too. They look warm, expensive. I sure would love to trade. These leathers only go so far during winter."

"Listen, how about I give each of you three gold pieces and you be on your way." Valof returned.

"Three gold pieces? Surely you could spare more 'Prince of Skyrim.'" The first man argued.

"No. Sorry, mates."

"Right, come on Tanis, just as we practiced."

Valof informed them, "Touch me and, as Akatosh as my witness, I will slit both of your throats, watch you bleed profusely, take whatever coin you have on you, and be on my merry way. Try me, I dare you, this trip has been nothing but a bore. Come on, elf. Do it." He continued, "Come on… take your dagger. Try it. You wanna be rich right? You wanna get some quick coin? I'm carrying forty gold-pieces. Tempting right? Go for it. Please."

The wood-elf, successfully intimidated, backed away urging the other hooded man to join him. But the other stayed.

"Tell me, Nord. With what weapon would you be using? Your nails? Pardon me, but you seemed to have misplaced your Khajiiti tail." The hooded man retaliated.

"You're right. I have no weapons. All the easier for you, no?"

Tanis chimed in suddenly, "Crendal, let's go."

"Crendal? You're a Breton, hmm? Why are you thieving then? Were you a disappointment to your house? Did you fail your studies of magicka? Are you just a good-for-nothing piece of Covenant filth with nothing to your name but your three pieces of gold, your rugged hood, and your broken, iron dagger? Piss off."

Enraged, the Breton unsheathed his blade and said, "You know nothing of me…" And with that, he struck at Valof. With a grin on his bearded face, Valof caught Crendal's arm mid-swing, unsheathed a dagger from the front bulge of his trousers, and proceeded to follow through with a clean cut across the Breton's throat. As the thief fell to the ground, gasping for air and choking on his own blood, Valof knelt down and whispered, "I know you are worthless, and you have died as a nothing."

Tanis did not move. He only watched as his partner was murdered in front of him. Crendal's blood seeped through the wooden cracks of the Morthal pathway. Valof then knelt down once more, wiped his blade on Crendal's apparel, and placed it back into his pants. He then removed three gold coins from the thief's pouch and then handed them to Tanis.

"Go get a drink; it's early, but I think you could use one. Farewell." Valof happily said to the Bosmer. Moments after, Jon exited the store, stepped over Crendal's body, and went back to the camp with Valof.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" Jon asked intrigued.

"Oh, nothing. Was just saying good morning to the residents of Hjaalmarch. We should be on our way, now." Valof returned. They made their way back to the camp, packed everything up, and set off further west to the border of High Rock and Skyrim.


	3. Finally

_Chapter III: Finally_

The air was void of birds. Not a single chirp rang out. Far and wide lay a ruined country, yielding nothing but desolation. Every green leaf, every blade of grass, and blade of grain was as shriveled and poor as the miserable people. Everything was bowed down, dejected, oppressed, and broken. Habitations, fences, domesticated animals, men, women, children, and the soil that bore them – all worn out. Dunmer pyromancers incinerated the lush, green, silky, tall trees of Valenwood. Argonian Shadowscales wreaked havoc upon the Khajiit of Elsweyr; Khajiit of all forms, shapes, and sizes were cut down, murdered, and destroyed. The Redguards, Bretons, Nords, and Orismer sailed menacingly towards the Summerset Isles. The Aldmeri Dominion had fallen, and now, the enemy alliances were enclosing the proud, Altmer homeland. After driving out the remaining Aldmeri forces, Jorunn the Skald-King was now Imperial Emperor. The Ebonheart Pact was victorious.

Bjorn and Valof had returned to Windhelm. The large, cold, metal gates of the city opened wide to welcome the Heroes of Skyrim home. Flowers were tossed, cheers were heard, and mead was drunk in a celebratory manner. The young Nord ignored it all. He ran through the flower petals, ignored the roaring applauses, and paid no attention to the kegs of fresh mead. No, he passed it all and he went straight to the Andemoor residence. The door was locked. Well, Bjorn didn't see Hinde in the crowd, so he backed up, kicked through the door of mahogany, and rushed inside towards Hinde's room, for he had been there before, most certainly.

When he reached her room, it too was locked. Similarly to before, he kicked through the expensive door with no regret. Bjorn left Hinde here with no goodbye, unaware of the problem she had needed to inform him of. Finally, after two, long weeks, he was finally, finally going to be with his love again. Finally, he would be able to caress her once more, listen to her sweet, mellow, Germanic voice, and connect his smooth lips to her soft, rosy ones. He barged in with a smile wider than Skyrim itself and with tears of joy streaming down his face. After many, many years, he was once again able to cry – willing to cry. The door cleared, and Bjorn charged in.

He shouted, "Hinde!" He continued, "Hinde! I'm back! I'm…" Bjorn was interrupted; not by his brother, not by a pillow being thrown at him, no. He was interrupted by the sight of a tall, muscular, fit, naked, stripped, pure Nord in bed with Hinde. The young Nord was interrupted by Hinde's gasp of surprise.

"Bjorn…" Hinde started, but she was halted by Bjorn's reaction. The tears, not so joyous anymore, fell through, from his cheek, through the wooden panels of the floor. His face turned red with excruciating rage and contempt. Pure hate overcame him. Losing all senses, Bjorn unsheathed his sharp, steel sword and charged at the Nordic adulterer. Before he could strike, Bjorn's cross-guard turned fiery red, the handle grew to be immensely, unbearably hot. He dropped the sword to the ground and gripped his hand in dire pain. As he focused on his palm, Hinde acquired the weapon from her floor. She proceeded to thrust the blade through Bjorn's very heart. The young Nord looked up in betrayal and then fell to the wooden panels in his own, crimson blood - dying. As he took his final gasps of air, he saw everything around him closing in. The two other Nords disappeared, the walls became black, the floor – nonexistent. He could see nothing but the terrors of Oblivion before him. And then, in a cold sweat, Bjorn woke up to the sound of Valof and Jon returning from Morthal.


	4. Antithesis

_Chapter IV: Antithesis_

The sound of the cheerful hawks' caw echoed throughout the city. Mounds of fresh snow piled onto the stony rooftops; it was as if a cloud had fallen upon the city to share its fluffy appearance with the earth below it. Evening Star brought substantial amounts of white powder to the hold of Windhelm. As more snow collected onto the streets, a mother hawk gracefully guided her way under her awning and landed peacefully in her nest. Truly what an impressive thing to witness. Her wings left her the perfect amount. They do not fall short and collide her into the stone pillars. Likewise, they do not overestimate themselves and cause her to fly over and away from her nest. It is truly an impressive sight.

The winter sun rises over the cold and snowy city. A young and fit Nord steps out onto his snow-covered balcony from his bedroom to bask in the cold sunlight. Similarly, a petite Nordic lass steps out behind him. Wrapped in sheets, she positions her arms around the blond-haired man. Her naked breasts press against his bare-back as she wraps the blanket around his revealing body.

"Frightfully cold this morning, my love." She initiates.

The bearded son of Skyrim does not respond, no. In fact, he does not even acknowledge what she had said. The young Nord simply declined her warm invitation of the blanket and returned to his bedroom. A faint panting emerged in the room as the Nord's husky, Aventus, found his way upstairs desiring attention. However, as the Nord did not embrace his lover, he, likewise, did not pay a sliver of attention to his furred companion. His fleshed companion simply grinned and lied back down onto the man's bed. Her lean body perfectly fit the indent she had made the night previously. He sighed, refilled his lungs, and knelt down to rub behind Aventus's right ear. If one looked closely, they would see the dogs' face create a slight smile. The young and fit Nord threw on the first tunic he saw; he put on the nicest scented trousers as well to match his laziness. Leaving his lover and his husky in his room, he moved downstairs. Slowly, his hand gripped the handle of his main door, and with a second, large sigh, he pushed out into the snow.

His bare feet immediately lost feeling. He began to shiver and tremble in the cold. Heavy snow fell onto his soft, somewhat greasy, blond hair. Despite the frightfully cold weather, he continued to trudge through. Every step he took, every time his foot punched into the tall snow, he winced. The big, blue veins bulged and darkened in his foot. Gods forbid he were to put on a pair of boots. After too many steps taken in the blocky snow, he turned to enter a different building. While his house was large, warm, grandiose, and expensive, he sought to enter an even larger, warmer, more spectacular, and more expensive home. The door was still locked, he found, as he tried to enter. No matter. Trudging through more snow, he went around into an alley way adjacent to the house. There, he proceeded to scale the frigid stone. His feet bruised and bled. Sharp edges scraped his hairy legs. Finally, he reached a window. Oh how he prayed to that defiled goddess that it be unlocked. And oh how his prayers went unanswered. Locked. His fingertips grew red and ached even more than his toes. He had one more option which had worked before… somewhat. The young Nord scaled the entire wall and reached the rooftop. Snow was up to his hips. His thighs shined red and other things retracted to say the least. The abled Nord had one more option – the chimneys. Now to find the one with no smoke exiting it. He still has the burn scars from falling into a dying fire from the week before. Out of the three chimneys which lied on the roof, only one remained clear of exiting smoke. Carefully, he positioned himself in a way to slide down the steep, narrow exhaust way slowly. Thinking of the soot which he would gather, he pulled his tunic up to cover his head, and with that, he slid down.

It just so happened that the chimney which he chose was the chimney of the master bedroom's fireplace. The Nord fell to the bottom and immediately noticed two older Nords, a husband and wife, lying together in bed during the early hours of the morning. Gingerly, he moved out of the cold fire pit and dusted himself off. Soot, thick as the snow which covered the city, fell onto the soft, wooden panels of the upper floor. Without making a sound, for he would not want to be caught trespassing again, he left the bedroom successfully avoiding waking the house owner and his wife.


	5. V

_Chapter V: V_

Another day and a half had passed before the Nordic convoy of two diplomats, two guards, and one horse master reached the city of Evermore in western High Rock. Valof, the strong, handsome, brawny brother, never informed the other companions of the strange note which he was given. Perhaps he simply forgot he even had it. After all, he did kill a man immediately after he acquired it from that shadowy lizard. Or perhaps he chose to withhold the information from the group. Although that would not make much sense. Either way, the note did not come up in conversation, and Valof just looked across the outskirts of Evermore to see chickens roaming. As they came ever closer to the city borders, a wheel had peculiarly decided to unhinge itself and escape from the carriage. The sudden drop immediately awoke Bjorn from his nap, and in a panicked response, he waved his arms in a pathetic defense of his unknown attacker which, oddly enough, turned out to be gravity.

"Damn!" Valof uttered with inconvenience, "The cursed wheel rolled down into that ditch there. I cannot see it from here."

The horse master, Eachann, explained to the party, "We must repair the carriage quickly if we are to reach Wayrest come mid-night. There is not a substantial amount of time to spare."

Jon, one of the accompanying guards, then chimed in, "Your Highnesses, please wait here while Harald and I return with the wheel. We shall make haste."

Without waiting for approval, Jon and Harald dismounted the carriage and traveled down to the ditch leading to a river bed a few meters away. The stench of the marshy river tussled with their noses, a very strong scent indeed. Evermore Ravens did not dare utter a single note; it was eerily silent. Only the sound of the distant roosters and hens were audible. Bluish-grey leaves fell from the trees with the slightest nudge of the brisk wind, and the mudcrabs in the riverbed did not show their face. Perhaps they were startled from the wheel. As the two Nords followed the tracks and drew closer to the wayward wheel, they were overcome with a sense of danger and nervousness. Seemingly synchronous, they each unsheathed their royal, steel swords which appeared to shine even with the clouds blocking the glistening sunlight.

Meanwhile, at the carriage, the horse master had dismounted to attend to natural matters. Bjorn positioned himself towards Valof in a manner of inquiry. Valof suddenly became anxious from the look of Bjorn, for he was in no mood to comfort his little brother today. To his surprise, however, Bjorn put forward an anomalous question.

"Valof… Have you thought of why we are doing this?" Bjorn started.

And Valof returned, "By what do you mean, brother?"

"This mission. Why are we making an alliance with the Daggerfall Covenant?"

"Bjorn… If we halt fighting on two fronts and transition to one, we may finally be able to rid Tamriel of the Mer."

"No, Valof, that is not what will happen, and you know it just as well as I do."

"This is for our county, Bjorn. You will do best to not further insult your homeland, Shorphan"

Bjorn's tone heightened as he began to raise his voice, "Oh, don't you play that nationalistic playing card with me! Think, Valof! What do you think would happen after we have defeated the Aldmeri Dominion?"

Valof interjected, "Then we will have the throne and the elves will be no more!"

"No, Valof! It doesn't make sense! Why would the Daggerfall Covenant all of a sudden allow the Ebonheart Pact to claim the throne? They seek to betray us for personal gain!"

Again, Valof interrupted, "You don't know that! Even so, we can attack them before they attack us!"

"Right, Valof, what a prosperous alliance that would be. And guess what, skeever-scat, to rid Tamriel of the Mer, we would need to execute allies in our own bloody alliance. The Dunmer are our most powerful ally! Your plans are flawed; you cannot possibly hope to claim the throne for Skyrim by the means you intend to."

"Bjorn! They are not my plans! They are father's and his cabinet's plans. We are only instruments!

Bjorn finished, "Instruments to our own damned demise, Valof!"

Before Valof could continue by adding to the argument, they were interrupted by a more pressing matter to say the least. Harald's voice echoed along the riverbed and sent dozens of startled ravens flying in fright. A distant, uncompleted cry for help rang towards the disabled carriage. Bjorn and Valof immediately stopped their bickering and grabbed hold of their weapons, Bjorn with his sharp, Nordic, steel sword and Valof with his hefty, cumbersome battle-axe. The two Sons of Skyrim darted towards the shout; leaping down the ditch into the riverbed and following the wheel's tracks, they reached the source. Back at the carriage, the horseman, while relieving himself, was interrupted by a sharp, bone arrowhead piercing his throat and passing straight through his airway, an impressive shot. He immediately fell to the soft, moist, dark earth as his blood oozed into it. Bjorn and Valof discovered a similar occurrence. Three arrows had impaled Harald's lifeless corpse. One directly in the tiny slit between his armor plates in his leg; this one must have disabled him. Another in the slit between his right arm's armor plates; this one disarmed him. And finally, one bluntly pierced straight through his strongest chest plate, fatally reaching his heart. Jon, however, was very much still alive. He was comically defused by having all his limbs stuck to the large tree behind him as four arrows were perfectly placed without causing any harm.

Utterly shocked, Bjorn attended to Jon while Valof did Harald, "Jon! By the Eight, what happened?!" The younger one interrogated alarmingly.

"We were ambushed. There must have been at least five of them," Jon paused to catch his breath, "Bosmer… these are Bosmeri arrows. It's the Dominion… They found us."

As Jon was recapitulating, Bjorn quickly broke the incapacitating arrows and freed him. Valof was examining Harald's lifeless body. Despite having three lethal puncture wounds, he died very quickly; Harald did not suffer for longer than maybe five seconds.

Bjorn took charge of the situation, "Valof, we need to get into the city! Jon, can you walk?"

Jon, out of breath, replied, "Yes, your Highness."

"Alright, you both go, quickly. I will follow and cover out escape. Go, now!"

Valof, concerned, instead questioned Bjorn ferociously, "We can't just leave his body here! Are you mad?!"

Bjorn replied solemnly, "Valof, we need to go now! We can return for him! Just go!"

And so, the three ran up from the riverbed, over the ditch, passed the carriage, and towards the city. Bjorn called out for Eachann to accompany them to safety but quickly noticed he too had been murdered. At an impressive pace, they sprinted to the Covenant city of Evermore. None looked back; they simply ran.

Within two minutes, they reached the city. They explained who they were to the guards and how they were just ambushed by a Dominion team of Bosmeri assassins. The guards took them to the center of Evermore where the three Nords were greeted by Covenant officials offering protection. The quiet city of Evermore was now livened by tripled guard patrols. No one neither entered nor exited the city. The Breton in charge of Evermore was Sir Anton; he immediately offered the Nords food, a secure room, and as much time as they needed to recover. Sir Anton was aware of the alliance-seeking mission which was taking place and was honored to be a part of it.

As the three Nords settled, Bjorn suddenly realized something.

Curiously, he turned to Jon and subsequently inquired, "Jon…" he started, "Why are you not dead?"

Jon began to reply, "Well, I appreciate that, your Highness."

"No, you misunderstand, Jon. Why did the three arrows which disabled you seek to only disable you while three similar arrows quickly killed Harald?"

He, again, replied, "Your Highness, I have not a single idea as to why that is the case; it certainly did ruin my armor though."

"Hmm… Valof, what do you make of this?"

There was no response.

"Valof?" Bjorn then looked around and could not find Valof in the room. He shouted loudly, "Valof!"

"Your Highness, perhaps he went to recover Harald." Jon suggested.

"That fool! Did he not see how accurate those archers were?!" Bjorn said angrily. "Stay here, Jon. I'll be back." And with that, Bjorn went for the carriage.

Before the younger one could exit the room, however, Jon grabbed his arm in an effort to stop him from leaving.

Jon pleaded, "Your Highness… two of us have already fallen, and a third very well may join those two. Please, for my sake, do not risk failing this mission. At least one of the Princes must make it to Daggerfall."

"Jon, I can't just let my brother die trying to save a corpse!"

Becoming emotional, Jon replied, "And I can't just let my Prince die trying to save a fool!"

Trying to break free of Jon's hold, "That fool out there _is_ your Prince, you idiot! Let me…-"

Bjorn was interrupted by Valof returning from the riverbed. He was unscathed and collected.

Surprised, Bjorn exclaimed, "Valof! You're back!"

As Jon loosened his grip of Bjorn's arm, he collected himself and greeted Valof, "Your Highness…"

Valof said nothing, dropped his war-axe upon the table, and plopped down on the chair defeated.

Bjorn asked quietly, "Where's Harald?"

Valof remained silent

"Valof?"

Valof jolted his head up at Bjorn angrily and shouted, "They took him!"

Confused, Jon asked for clarification, "What do you mean?"

"They took his body, Jon! They took him away from us…"

Before Bjorn or Jon could continue the conversation, Sir Anton suddenly entered the room bringing blankets.

He graciously began to speak to the Nords, "Please accept these blankets and take all the time you need here to recover. At dawn, I will have a carriage and royal escort prepared for you three to quickly arrive at Daggerfall. All that is required to inform me as to when you intend to leave."

Bjorn answered, "Thank you, Sir Anton. We will gladly accept your help tomorrow morning. We are pressed for time."

"Very well. Goodnight, gentlemen. Should you need anything, I will be available all night."

And with that, he left the room and the three Nords in it. Jon eagerly undressed himself as he prepared for bed. Valof returned to his sulking. Bjorn, the younger one, gently touched Valof's shoulder and prepared for bed himself. The cool breeze of the Evermore night crept into the room via the ajar window. Starlight, in a similar way, shined down and onto the faces of the Nords sheepishly. The night was filled with much unrest and uneasiness; all three Nords finally began to rest. Their backs were comforted with soft, welcoming beds, and their heads were embraced by reassuring pillows. Blankets furthermore secured them; however, the unfamiliar breeze kept Valof from truly falling into a relaxed sleep to recover his energy. In an effort to remedy this, Valof, uncomfortably, sat upright, stepped up from the refreshing bed, and moved towards the irksome window. Putting his hand on the window, he peered outside into the then silent night. Suddenly, numerous ravens cawed and took off from a tall tree adjacent to the secured house. Valof, surprised, looked towards the close by tree and saw two faint yellow circles floating in the dark branches. He tried to focus on them to discover what they may be, so he rubbed his eyes, and as he reopened them, he felt a sudden sharp pain in his lower neck. He could no longer breathe and felt a warm sensation crawl down his hairy chest. An arrow had pierced his throat. The older one then crashed down backwards, alerting the two other Nords. Jon awoke first, and as he realized what his eyes were showing him, his mouth went agape. Bjorn slowly awoke, and as he realized what his eyes were showing him, he began to scream.

"Valof!"

Bjorn shot out of the soft bed and rushed to his brother's aid. Valof was viciously coughing blood and severely struggled to breathe. All he could do was hold his younger brother's hand tightly as his last image was a hooded elf burst through the window kicking Bjorn to the ground. Jon, stunned and appalled, quickly shot into action and reached for his blade to defend his Princes. But before Jon could even focus on the assailant, he felt a smooth blade enter the upper right region of his ribcage. The excruciating pain caused him to yell to the top of his lungs, but before he could release a single sound, the dagger exited his torso and quickly silenced him by slashing his exposed throat. Jon fell to the floor which was moistened by Valof's and Jon's warm bloods. Bjorn, dazed, tried to get an understanding of what had just transpired. Confused, he saw his brother, lifeless, eyes wide open, and mouth to match, staring blindly at the ceiling and Jon, covering his now open throat trying to obtain any trace of air, collapse dead as well. Bjorn then saw the assassin who was standing in front of the window which he entered as he wiped the Nordic blood from the beautiful weapon which had murdered two noble Sons of Skyrim. Before Bjorn could make any sort of movement against the assassin, the hooded figure quickly moved to him, bound him and force-fed him an exotic herb which quickly made him unconscious. The assassin then carefully lifted Bjorn out of the window which he had entered and followed through himself. The talented killer then was able to scale down the tree while carrying Bjorn upon his back, returned to the patiently waiting horse, secured the unconscious Bjorn, and made his escape from Evermore.


End file.
